Expidence
by Dyce
Summary: COMPLETE. A very alternative universe, in which one word in the wrong ear sets off a very different train of events from the canon. SSNM
1. Chapter 1

**Expidence**

Author's Note: I was off my head with the flu when I wrote this, and I claim no responsibility whatsoever. The characters aren't mine, either, etc, disclaimer, don't sue. We can all just be thankful that I was talked out of my first flu-induced idea - Harry Potter/Disney Princess songfic! 

(I swear, it seemed BRILLIANT at the time. Fortunately, kind friends interceded before I could do any real harm)

The story's finished, contains seven chapters, and will probably go up over the next few days.

Chapter One 

Lord Voldemort was gone.

Dead or simply vanished, it mattered little to those of his followers suddenly left exposed by his disappearance. After the initial flurry of gleeful celebration, the hunt for Voldemort's former allies had been on with a vengeance.

Lucius Malfoy was... concerned. He would not, even in the privacy of his own mind, admit to worry or fear. Several Death Eaters had already been captured, and while some would resist to the death, others would tell everything they knew in an attempt to save their own skins. Sooner or later... within another day or two, most likely... he would have Aurors banging on his door, demanding an accounting. And while he could certainly afford any number of bribes, and had taken the sensible precaution of amassing a certain amount of blackmail-material on several highly placed members of the Ministry... he was concerned. It should be enough. But it might not be.

He'd shut himself in his study to think things over, to put together contingency plans, just in case. He'd been staring into the fire for some time, still struggling to come up with something, when a soft tapping sound alerted him. Someone was knocking on his door. Not Narcissa - she knew better to disturb him when he chose to isolate himself. The servants had gone to bed or to their homes for the night, and the house elf would never dare approach his master unless summoned.

The tap came again, and this time he recognized it. Tap tap, pause, tap tap tap, pause, tap. An arrhythmic sound, apparently casual, but in fact a code the Death Eaters had used for some time. He scowled, rising from his chair. One of them had dared to come here? To his home? If they had been followed, if they had brought suspicion down on him that he could not evade...

He opened the door, and saw... nothing. He frowned, opening it wider and stepping out into the hall. No sign, anywhere, of another living being. He turned to go back into his study, and blinked, the only sign of surprise he permitted himself. Severus Snape was standing there, an invisibility cloak in his hands.

"I suggest you close the door," Snape said very quietly, his voice grim. "I've taken great pains not to be seen, Lucius, but if someone should pass..."

"No-one will," Lucius said, relaxing slightly as he closed the door anyway. "I am not to be disturbed when I am... thinking. I have made that clear to my household." He quirked an eyebrow, moving back to stand by the fire in a deliberately casual pose. "What brings you here, Severus? I doubt it was a longing for my company."

"No," Snape agreed, smiling thinly. "We are in a position to do one another a favour, Lucius. Which may, with the very least of effort on your part or mine, benefit us both greatly."

"Interesting," Lucius noted, picking up his cane and toying with it, apparently idly. Snape knew as well as he did that the cane had a wand hidden within it... but as long as it remained hidden, there was no immediate threat. "And what sort of favours might be involved?" He was willing, at least, to consider it. Snape was... intelligent. Like Lucius, he had cannily moved to hedge his bets, to ensure that if things went wrong, he would have a means of escape from blame. Had Lucius been willing to admit it, Snape had done the better of the two - with Dumbledore as his protector, he was all but untouchable.

"Nothing that requires any exertion on your part," Snape said smoothly. "I provided you with a certain substance, about a year ago. A difficult to prepare and almost impossible to detect substance, which few wizards even know exists." He drew a tiny bottle of very thick glass from his robes, stoppered but obviously empty. "I need some of it back."

Both eyebrows went up this time. "An interesting request," Lucius said slowly. "Might I ask why? You brewed it the first time, surely you can do so again."

Snape shook his head. "I no longer have any access to ezerin seed. Even the Dark Lord could only procure for me a very small supply, and it is long gone." He smiled that thin, cold smile again. "Which suits me well, as it happens, as I can prove conclusively that I have no access to it. I need it to... take care of a certain complication. I am well settled at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore has entirely accepted my tearful protestations of penitence... such a trusting soul, it's quite touching. There is only one... complication, remaining. Someone who knows something rather damaging, but is not yet aware that they know it. Once that person is disposed of..."

Lucius nodded. This he understood; it was why Snape had given him the poison in the first place. Sometimes witnesses needed to be gotten quietly out of the way. It was no great effort to make it look like a suicide, or to ease the blame for the murder onto someone else. "And what favour would you do me in return?"

"One that no-one else can do for you," Snape said quietly. "I can tell Dumbledore, under the influence of Veritaserum, that I saw the Dark Lord place an Imperius Curse upon you."

Lucius blinked again, his face remaining calm even as he was siezed by a sudden, wild joy. It was true... once, as a punishment, Lord Voldemort had placed the Curse upon him and forced him to injure himself. Snape had seen it. He could swear under any drug or spell that Voldemort had put Lucius under the Imperius Curse and had forced him to do things... with such proof, he would be safe. "A useful favour," he conceded coolly. "I think that would be... acceptable."

"Good." Snape offered him the bottle. "Then if you would be so kind as to provide your part, Lucius, I will be able to return to Hogwarts and attest to your innocence. The Aurors will be here sometime tomorrow. I suggest you hurry."

Lucius nodded, taking the tiny bottle, and drew his wand from its hiding place inside the cane. "Of course." He didn't let the news that they were coming distress him... he would be protected, now.

He went to the small cabinet where wine and brandy awaited his pleasure, and the few guests he permitted into this sanctum. He had more secure hiding places, of course, but the poison would be of less use if it were not readily to hand. Besides, his grandfather had had a hiding place built into the cabinet, for that very purpose. He opened it - simple, once you knew how - and drew out the small, rather dusty bottle. He opened its tiny spout just a little, and carefully filled Snape's bottle a single drop at a time, careful not to let the poison drip or splash, or come into contact with his skin or clothes. Fifteen drops sufficed, and he carefully closed both bottles, before hiding the one again and returning the other to its owner. Then, with a challenging smile, he poured two glasses of wine, offering one to Snape. "A drink?" he offered, meeting the black eyes with another smile. "To old times."

"Of course," Snape said, returning the challenging look. He tapped the small bottle with his wand, making it glow briefly, and then tucked wand and bottle away. "Still very potent. It won't remain so for more than another year." He accepted the glass, and lifted it to Lucius with a small, mocking smile. "To survival," he said softly.

"To survival," Lucius agreed, and as one they drained their glasses. He hadn't poisoned it, of course; Snape was, at this point, far too useful for him. But the possibility was always there, for another time.

Snape set down the glass, and tapped it lightly with his wand. "Hygaeus," he whispered, and the residue of the wine was gone, the glass appearing never to have been used. "My thanks, Lucius," he said, inclining his head. "I'll take my leave of you now. It would be best if we are not seen in one another's company for... some time. Rest assured, however, that I will keep my part of our bargain." That thin, cold smile appeared again. "You and I know far too much about each other to be... indiscreet. The other might do the same."

"Mutual interest forms the strongest basis for... trust," Lucius agreed. "Goodnight, Severus... I trust we won't need to meet again for a while." He opened the door, and Severus stepped through it, drawing the cloak around him again and fading from view.

"Goodnight, Lucius," his disembodied voice murmured. "And farewell."

Lucius shut the door, smiling a little now that there was nobody there to see. Things had worked themselves out to great advantage, he thought, returning to his comfortable chair by the fire. He had a witness to his 'innocence', and one who would be vouched for by Dumbledore himself. Yes, things were working out very well, he thought, surprising himself with a yawn. Past midnight... it was later than he'd thought. He would get up in a moment and go to bed, but he was so comfortable... he'd just rest another moment first...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Alastor Moody rubbed his temple absently. The new magical eye was useful, but the socket wasn't entirely healed, after losing his original eye. It chafed. He'd get used to it.

"Door, Raines," he told the younger Auror standing beside him. Raines nodded, and strode up the mansion's graceful marble steps to the front door. He usually did this part, since he had enormous fists apparently made of teak, and a booming baritone that frightened the widdle out of most wrongdoers... literally, in a few of the more nervous cases.

He pounded on the door, and Alastor could hear the booming echo inside the house - big hall, good amplifier. "Open up!" he bellowed. "Department of Magical Enforcement!"

He paused for a moment, and just as he was raising his fist to bang again, the door cracked open the slightest bit. "My mistress is coming down, please wait!" squeaked a tiny voice from somewhere below waist height - house elf - before the door slammed shut again. Of course, they would have one, being such an old and wealthy family.

Raines looked at Alastor, who nodded. The house was surrounded and being watched closely - nobody would escape. And with a case involving someone so wealthy and influential, it was wise to observe the courtesies. Malfoy would have no grounds for complaints against them. "Two minutes," he grunted. That would be long enough.

One minute and forty-five seconds later, the door opened again, a tiny, rather dirty house-elf giving them frightened looks as he bowed and scraped obsequiously. No sign of the 'mistress'... then Moody heard Raines' breath catch, and looked up. A lovely blonde girl was coming down the stairs, wearing a deep blue, sleeveless something-or-other, all frills and delicate lace. Alastor had no idea what women actually called such things, but even he had to admit it was rather fetching. And Raines - being young, and still a little green - was all but drooling.

Alastor, who didn't drool, noticed instead that she'd clearly just woken up, and looked bewildered and a little frightened - very young, too. According to the files, she'd married Malfoy at eighteen, and was only just twenty now. "What is it?" she asked anxiously, looking around at the Aurors crowding into her hallway. "Is something wrong?"

"Mrs Malfoy?" At her nod, Alastor continued. "We need to see your husband, Mrs Malfoy. At once. Is he on his way down?"

She gave him another bewildered look. "I... I don't know. Dobby, go see if the Master is awake. If he isn't, wake him. And wake the nanny, too." The house-elf bobbed and vanished, and she looked at Alastor again, biting her soft lower lip nervously. "I... do you want to come in and... and sit down, or something?" she asked, clearly uncertain as to what she should be doing.

"If you don't mind, Mrs Malfoy, we'll wait for your husband here," Alastor said, but he signalled the others to tone down the menace a little and relax. The girl seemed nervous, but not inclined to bolt or start throwing curses around, and if she had a wand on her, she'd swallowed it.

"Of course." She wrung her hands nervously, looking back up the stairs. If Alastor was any judge - and he was - she was desperate for her husband to come down and Deal With Things, since she was incapable of doing so on her own.

It was a minute later that the house-elf reappeared, looking frightened. "The nanny is attending Master Draco, Mistress, but the Master is not in his room, and his bed has not been slept in."

Separate beds and bedrooms. Interesting. Most men married to lovely young women wouldn't have arranged things that way. "Do you have any idea where your husband might be, Mrs Malfoy?"

She looked downright panicked now. "I... I don't know. He didn't tell me he was going out, and usually he does." She brightened suddenly. "Perhaps he dozed off in his study. I'll go and see."

"That seems like a good idea, Mrs Malfoy," Alastor agreed, inclining his head. "Rowanwood will go with you." A tall, grim-faced witch nodded, and moved past him to stand beside the smaller woman.

"Of course, if you wish," Mrs Malfoy agreed, apparently automatically. "It's this way. But you mustn't go in, he doesn't like people to go in."

Rowanwood nodded silently, giving the blonde girl a suspicious look as they headed down a hallway. Alastor made a mental note to explain that just because they were frightened, didn't mean they were guilty. Often, it meant they were entirely innocent.

The two women rounded a corner, and Alastor listened carefully. He heard a door open, and then a little gasping cry. Then Rowanwood's voice, raised without caution. "Moody, we've found Malfoy," she called, her voice as grim as her face. "But I don't think he'll be answering any questions."

Narcissa Malfoy had been sent away with a young Auror named Merryweather, to sit down and sip some restorative brandy or something. Adele was very good at Sympathetic and Understanding, and if there was anything blurted out in Mrs Malfoy's distress, Adele would pick it up.

"The door wasn't locked... she looked frightened when she opened it, though," Rowanwood observed. "Husband doesn't seem to have thought locking it was necessary. Doubt anyone would have dared to open it without his permission. Seemed that sort."

"Oh, yes, almost certainly. Master in his own home, that would have been his way." Alastor examined the body. It looked quite peaceful, as if Malfoy had simply dozed off, but the body was long cold, and had the greyish tinge of death. "No marks on him."

"Avada Kedavra, maybe? That doesn't leave marks," Raines suggested.

"Leaves magical residue, though." Moody muttered a spell under his breath. A few brief flares of light answered, mostly suspended in the air. "No major spells have been used in here in at least twenty-four hours. He hasn't been dead that long."

"Probably last night," Rowanwood agreed, having been examining the body herself. "Wife wouldn't know, if they were using separate bedrooms."

"Probably not." Alastor noticed an empty wineglass set down on a small table by the body, and picked it up, sniffing carefully. The residue was of red wine... good, too, he would guess, given who'd been drinking it. On an impulse, he touched the tip of his wand to the rim of the glass. As he'd expected, a misty bunch of grapes formed above the glass before dissipating, indicating the nature of the contents. And as he'd suspected, it was followed by another image- a small, bulgy-looking purple flower. "Poison," he said softly. "That was an ezerin flower. The seeds are the basis for a deadly, almost undetectable poison."

Raines glanced at the body. "Who do you think put it in there?" he asked softly. "Might've done it himself, don't you think? If he knew we were coming..."

"Maybe. If he did, there'll be more somewhere," Alastor said, looking around. The magical eye really was an enormous asset... with it, he looked through the side of the cabinet, and saw the secret compartment with a small bottle inside it. "Gloves, Rowanwood."

It didn't take long to confirm that the bottle, too, contained ezerine poison. A childishly simple spell of like-to-like confirmed that the poison in the glass was identical to the one in the bottle... from the same brewing, then, since no two were ever perfectly identical. And he let Raines play with his 'fingerprint kit'... a muggle notion, but not without merit... to check that only Malfoy had handled the bottle. "Seems obvious, sir," he said, sitting back on his heels. "Must have done it himself."

"Maybe." Alastor frowned thoughtfully. "But why hide the bottle again, if he did?" He scowled at it, then nodded thoughtfully. "Time to talk to the wife, I think."

"Poisoned?" Mrs Malfoy's tear-filled eyes were wide with surprise. "But who could have poisoned him?"

"I don't know yet, Mrs Malfoy," Alastor said coolly. "Do you know if your husband saw anyone last night?" Merryweather was sitting near Mrs Malfoy, looking sympathetic, while Raines and Rowanwood stood behind Alastor, scowling in an intimidating way. It usually worked.

She shook her head. "I wouldn't know," she admitted, looking down at her hands. "I... I'm rarely invited into his study. My husband likes - liked - his privacy." She twisted her handkerchief unhappily between her fingers, her cheeks going pink. "He did sometimes have visitors, but I didn't... didn't pry. If he wanted me to know, he would tell me."

Other women, Alastor guessed. Malfoy wouldn't have been the faithful type. And it would have made a very good blind for another kind of visitor - the wife would be very careful not to know who went in or out. "Would anyone else know? One of the servants?"

She shook her head. "They're not to go near the study unless summoned," she told him a little more firmly. "Only Dobby is permitted to go in, and only to clean. If my husband wanted something, he would have it left at the door."

Alastor nodded. "And that insistence on privacy didn't seem at all strange to you?" he prodded. "You are his wife, after all... did he have something to hide from you?"

She gave him a blank look. "I never wondered," she said simply. "It was just how he was."

Rowanwood made a sceptical noise, but Alastor nodded. It tallied with what he'd already observed. "Mrs Malfoy," he said, meeting her eyes, knowing that his would unsettle her. "We came here with reason to believe that your husband was allied to He Who Must Not Be Named. When we examined the body, the Dark Mark was on his arm. Was he the only supporter of the Dark Lord in this house?"

She trembled visibly, her eyes filling with tears again, but she held out her arms, left bare by the frilly garment wrapped around her. Both were pale and unmarked. "I never swore alliegance to He Who Must Not Be Named," she said, her voice shaking. "I didn't, I'll take Veritaserum if you don't believe me..."

"But your husband did," Rowanwood snapped, glaring suspiciously at the other woman. "You must have known, he couldn't have hidden that mark from you!"

Mrs Malfoy stared at her, her lips trembling, and then suddenly her face crumpled."I didn't want to know!" she wailed, hiding her face in her hands. "I was afraid! Terrible things happen if you say anything, and I was frightened, they might have hurt my baby..." She gulped, lifting her head to gaze pleadingly at Alastor. "I just did what I was told," she whispered, her face tearstreaked. "I didn't hurt anyone. I had my baby to think of..."

Rowanwood started to speak again, but Alastor quieted her with a sharp movement of one hand. "I understand, Mrs Malfoy," he said quietly. "I have more questions, but they can wait. I suggest you go upstairs and compose yourself while you get dressed. Check in on your son, if you like."

She nodded tearfully, and slipped out of the room, Merryweather following after a signal from Alastor. Rowanwood snorted. "Pretty damn implausible," she said grimly. "Does she expect us to believe that?"

Alastor leaned back in his chair. "I do believe it," he said flatly. "And it won't be the first time we hear that story, so get used to it."

"Sir?" Raines moved around from behind him, giving him a puzzled look. "It seems... well, a very lame story."

"If she was lying, she'd probably do it better." Alastor fingered his nose absently, the new chunk taken out of it still feeling odd. "You saw her when we came in. What did you think?"

"She acted guilty from the beginning," Rowanwood said grimly. "Anyone could see she was afraid of us."

"She seemed... sort of confused," Raines added hesitantly. "Like she wasn't sure what to do."

Alastor nodded. "Typical pure-blood girl from an old family," he agreed. "Got caught without anyone to give her instructions and panicked."

"Without instructions?" Raines asked, frowning.

"Pure-bloods tend to be traditional. Old-fashioned. Girls aren't encouraged to think for themselves, makes 'em harder to marry off." Alastor tapped his magical eye thoughtfully. "She was telling the truth, when she said she wasn't sworn to You-Know-Who, and that she was afraid. Probably just went along with everything her husband told her."

"So you think she's innocent, sir?" Raines ask, a little hopefully. It wouldn't sit well with his rather romantic view of the world to have such a pretty, helpless girl be a villain.

"Hell, no. Think she was an accessory, at least, probably helped her husband and sister with some of their dirty work. But if we arrest everyone who was just frightened and stupid, we won't have any room left in Azkaban for real criminals." He shook his head. "We'll look into it a little more, maybe have her questioned again... but I'd say we'll probably write Malfoy off as a suicide... he knew we were coming, probably thought we had more on him than we did, and decided to take an easy way out. For the baby's sake, we'll let the wife alone." He stood up, looking around. "Raines, go call off the others. We won't need them. Even if the Malfoy woman tries something, which is bloody unlikely, the four of us can handle her." The poor stupid child, he thought, remembering her fear and confusion with a little pity. It was a sin what some people did to their children.

Upstairs, Narcissa wiped her eyes one more time, and inspected herself anxiously in the mirror. The heavy black robes made her look even paler and more fragile, which was good... she wanted to be sure the Aurors saw her as helpless and weak.

So, Lucius was dead. Although it had come as a shock to have it happen so suddenly, she wasn't really surprised. She'd known from the moment he'd sworn himself to Voldemort that he'd die sooner or later, and although she'd observed every wifely duty scrupulously, and had respected him and been loyal to him while he lived, she'd never been especially fond of him. He hadn't been a likeable man, really, and since he was going to die, she hadn't let herself get attached.

Not like the gruff, scar-covered Auror. He was a very likeable man. He wasn't going to punish her for what Lucius had done, she could tell. She probably wouldn't even have to have a trial or anything nasty like that. She smiled a little at her reflection. Lucius and Bella had always told her what to do. They thought she was stupid. And maybe they were right... she didn't think very fast, and she got frightened when she didn't have anyone to explain things to her and tell her what to do. But she was cleverer than they were in one way... she knew that quite often, telling the truth was much better than lying.

So she'd told the scarred Auror the truth... that she hadn't ever sworn loyalty to Voldemort (in so many words), that she hadn't wanted to know about her husband's activities (because they were unpleasant and uninteresting), and that she'd been afraid for her son (if Voldemort had ever truly wanted to punish either of them, he would have killed Draco, the way he'd tried to kill the Potter child). It hadn't been the whole truth, but it HAD been true. She was very good at telling the truth and making it sound the way she wanted it to.

"Dobby," she called, going to her dresser to fetch a dry handkerchief.

"You called, Mistress?" Dobby squeaked, appearing with a small pop of displaced air.

"The Aurors will probably want to ask you questions. As long as they don't impinge on the family's secrets, you may answer them." She turned to look at him. "You were downstairs cleaning last night."

"Yes, Mistress, as you instructed," he agreed, bowing again.

"Then when they ask you if anyone else was in my husband's study last night," she said, turning back to her mirror, "you will answer that as far as you know, there was no-one there. Do you understand? You will not swear to nobody having been there, in case they can prove otherwise. You. Do. Not. Know."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The useful thing about habitually wearing black was that you were ready for almost any occasion. For example, calling upon a newly bereaved widow required nothing more than a check that you were clean.

Severus Snape tapped lightly on the door of the Malfoy residence, and folded his hands into the heavy sleeves of his robes. His plan had worked to perfection... Lucius had died in his sleep, almost certainly without ever suspecting that he'd been poisoned. Narcissa had apparently not been suspected, and according to Moody - who'd been willing enough to talk, when he returned to the Order's headquarters - there was no sign of a second person having been in the study. And Dumbledore had never noticed that Potter's invisibility cloak had been borrowed for a few hours.

A young witch in a prim maid's uniform opened the door, bobbing a little curtsey. "Good morning, sir," she said, ducking her head. "I'm sorry, but-"

"There's been a death in the house. I know," Snape inclined his head. "I am... an old friend. From school. I would like to see Mrs Malfoy and express my sympathies, if she is up to having visitors. My name is Severus Snape."

"Of course, sir. Please, come in." She waved him into the hall, closing the door firmly. "I will go and see if the Mistress is well enough to see you, if you will wait here."

Severus nodded, and the maid whisked off upstairs. He'd only been waiting a few moments when she appeared again at the top of the stairs. "Mrs Malfoy would be happy to see you, Mr Snape," she said, inclining her head politely. "If you will come with me?"

She escorted him to a large, airy room; Narcissa's sitting room, he guessed, a place that Lucius had probably rarely, if ever, bothered to enter. It was a rather charming room, rather feminine, with a litter of toys at one end. Narcissa was seated on a small brocade couch, her face turned towards the door. She looked small and frail in her black robes, and he felt a very small pang of guilt... although it had been necessary to get Lucius out of the way, and he doubted she would grieve much, being alone must be very frightening for her. "Narcissa," he said softly, as the maid slipped away, closing the door behind her. "Are you all right?"

She smiled a rather twisted, unhappy smile. "Well, my husband is dead. I've had better weeks." She shook her head, and held out a hand to him. "But I know what you mean. I'm well enough, and the Aurors were... very polite. I'm not a suspect in his death, and they don't intend to blame me for his.. alliegance."

He bowed politely over her hand, and was waved to a seat that was close to her couch. "I'm glad they didn't offer you any insult," he said quietly. "And that you aren't in any other... difficulties."

"No." She smiled again, her lips trembling a little. "Although I find myself suddenly rather friendless. You're the first person who's dared come near the house, since it came out that Lucius was suspected of... well. It's going to be kept quiet, if possible, that he was actually a Death Eater, for Draco's sake. Since Lucius is dead and can't do any more harm, they don't want Draco and I to have to suffer."

"Good." Moody was a bastard in general, but he could be kind when it came to children and the helpless. "And I am sorry that I'm the only one who's had the courage to come." Words of comfort didn't come easily to him - they felt awkward, and he hurried on to the real reason for his visit. "I hoped that I might be able to help. As... shall we say, an old friend."

She stilled, her eyes suddenly watchful. "Help... how?" she asked quietly.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "I know that Lucius was given several devices and artefacts to keep safe," he said very softly. "That he hid them here, in this house, believing it to be inviolate. It isn't. The Aurors will return to search, and will almost certainly find at least part of what was entrusted to him. You may be implicated, then... and even if you are not, your husband's former allies will not be pleased with you if you allow them to be taken." She trembled, and he nodded. Even Bellatrix would not be merciful to her sister, if that sister had allowed the Ministry to walk away with Voldemort's treasures. "I came in hopes that you'd allow me to remove the... items... before the Aurors return. I can conceal them, now that I'm no longer under suspicion myself."

"Would you?" Narcissa's eyes filled. "Thank you, Severus, thank you so much! I've been so frightened... I know where they are, I can show you, Lucius showed me in case he was taken away..." She caught his hand between hers, her face alight with hope. "You can put them somewhere safe? And let the others know, so they won't be angry with me?"

"I'll do what I can," he promised, a little startled. Her hands were small and cool and very soft, something he really shouldn't be noticing. "I should leave a few things - they'll be suspicious if they find nothing - but all the most important things I'll remove." She was still giving him that hopeful, almost pleading look; which was rather ironic, given that he was the one who'd put her in this situation in the first place. "I don't want you to have to face any more trouble because of Lucius," he said gently, clasping her hand for just a moment before drawing his own away. "You and your baby will be quite safe, Narcissa, if I can arrange it."

She nodded, wiping her eyes with a lacy little handkerchief. "Thank you, Severus," she whispered. "It meants a great deal to me."

An hour later, he had eight items secreted in his robes that would get him executed without trial if he was caught with them. He was moving in an almost visible aura of Dark Magic, and he was heartily uncomfortable. The sooner he could get back to Hogwarts and be rid of the wretched things, the better. Especially the diary. What it was, he wasn't sure, but it had a greasy miasma of Dark Magic that had made his skin crawl when he touched it. "Thank you, Narcissa," he said softly, twitching his shoulders a little as his robes seemed to prickle with magical energy. "I'll make sure they aren't found, or associated with you."

Narcissa nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again. It was a good thing that she was still pretty when she cried, given how often she was doing it. "I'm the one who should thank you," she whispered. The diary and the little golden cup had been hidden in her bedroom, and she'd been afraid to move them in case they left some kind of residue or something on her and she was caught. "You're taking such a risk, carrying those things..."

"I'll be all right. Thanks to Dumbedore, I'm no longer suspected of anything." He gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "It will all be all right, Narcissa, you'll see."

She started to cry in earnest, and she swayed and somehow she ended up sort of leaning against him, tucked in between his arms so he wound up half-embracing her without any idea how it had happened. "I won't ever forget this, I won't," she sobbed, clinging to his robes and crying into them. "Nobody else would even talk to me, let alone help me, and I was so frightened..."

Severus had no idea what to do. He'd never in his life had a woman cry on him before, and while there was probably some sort of established protocol, he didn't have a clue what it might be. Feeling suddenly very helpless, he patted her awkwardly on the back, letting her lean on him. "There there," he said, and winced at how banal it sounded. But what did one SAY at a time like this? "I'm glad I could help." That wasn't much better, damn it.

Narcissa sniffled, holding on a moment longer before thankfully releasing him, straightening up and giving him an embarrassed little smile. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said, blushing a bit. "For giving way like that. I just... I've been feeling so alone, and so helpless, ever since Lucius died. Knowing that at least one person is still willing to help me means more than I can possibly tell you."

Severus nodded. He'd felt much the same way when he'd confessed to Dumbledore, and instead of turning him over to the authorities, the old man had offered to help him. "I know how you feel," he said, touching her shoulder lightly - that seemed relatively safe. "I understand completely. And should you ever need help again, you may call on me... I'll help if I can." He owed her that much, although she didn't know it.

"Thank you," she whispered again, giving him an unsettlingly sweet smile. "And... if there's ever anything I can do for you, I will. I promise."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Narcissa was glad she had waited until darkness fell.

She'd known that Severus lived in a Muggle town, when he wasn't at Hogwarts - he'd told her as much, on his visit after Lucius died, so she'd be able to find him if she needed him. But she hadn't known it was like this.

The mill seemed to lean in over the small town, its chimneys rising into the sky like clawing fingers. The town itself was small and shabby and dirty... and, she thought, as she hurried through the empty streets, it seemed to be fading. Almost ill, if a town could be ill. There were more boarded up windows and empty houses than she'd have expected. She was more than a little relieved when she reached the street named Spinner's End, and hurried a little more. She must be almost there...

The last house showed a light, and she looked and found the stone dragon, half-buried in greenery, that he'd said would be in the front garden. This was it. She bit her lip. It was a small, shabby house... but although it looked neglected now, it had been well cared for once. She might not be clever... although now that she'd had a chance to manage on her own for a while, she was starting to question that... but she was observant, and she remembered Snape at school, with his battered, worn things and old books. She doubted he'd have ever bought such a house... it must have been inherited, the home of parents or grandparents who could afford nothing better. No wonder he was so proud, so unwilling to accept charity or pity...

She slipped up the weedy path and tapped tentatively on the door. She hoped he was there - and that nobody else was.

After a moment the door opened a crack, and she pushed back her hood as he peered out, clutching the parcel she carried nervously. "Hello, Severus," she said a little shyly.

He blinked, opening the door wider. "Narcissa! Come in, please." He stepped aside, waving her into a small sitting room, so lined with books that it looked more like a library than a room in a private residence. He closed the door and turned to her, a small frown creasing is forehead. "Is something wrong? Are you in difficulties of some kind?"

"Yes," she admitted in a small voice. "And no. I'm... it's complicated." She felt disturbingly off-balance. She'd come here on impulse, remembering how reassuring and encouraging his mere presence had been when he'd come to visit her. She wasn't sure now how much to tell him - she hadn't thought it out in advance, and she wasn't at her best when she had to think on the fly. As much to buy time to think as anything else, she held out the parcel, blushing a little. "I... brought this for you. It's of no use to me, and I thought you might... like it."

He looked even more startled now, accepting the parcel a little uncertainly. "I... thank you. Please, sit down." He guided her to a worn but very comfortable chair, sitting down himself on a rather less-comfortable looking sofa to unwrap the package, which was wrapped in a length of soft woolen cloth - Narcissa had had no paper such as Muggles used, and no idea how to get any, so she'd decided that brown fabric would do as well as brown paper. He untied the string around it, and unwrapped the fabric... and when his face lit up, she knew she'd chosen her gift well. 'Ane Historie Of Potions', so old that no author's name graced the cover, was a rare and valuable book, or so she thought from its careful placement in a locked case in her former husband's library. And he was teaching Potions now, and she remembered that he'd always liked the subject. "Narcissa, this is... an extraordinary gift," he said softly, handling the book as gently and lovingly as if it were a child.

"I thought you'd put it to better use than leaving it to sit in a library, unread and unwanted," she said, smiling at his obvious pleasure. "Lucius had an enormous library, and I can't even read half of the books. It seemed a pity to let that one go to waste."

He nodded, and she saw that she'd taken the right tone... although he'd refuse an expensive gift on principle, if the giver knew its value, he would permit her to give away something she couldn't understand or use to keep it from being wasted. "Thank you. I will take great care of it." He wrapped it up again, laying it gently beside him on the sofa. "You said that you were in trouble, Narcissa, and yet you weren't. Is there something I can do to help?"

She looked down at her hands. She wasn't sure where to start, or how much to tell him. "I don't know if you can help. I..." She looked up at him, and the faint concern on his usually expressionless face decided her. Severus had come to help her when nobody else had, even Bella. She would lay out the whole problem for him, and he would tell her what to do. "Bella is going to do something," she said unhappily. "She - she thinks she can bring the Dark Lord back."

He went still, gazing at her with expressionless eyes as an eyebrow rose. "Oh?" he asked neutrally.

She'd expected that... she had her suspicions, about his true loyalties. But she could hardly expect him to just trust her, and she wasn't sure how to make him. She should say something clever, something that would show him that she could be trusted... "I don't want him to come back!" she blurted almost childishly, and then flushed, lowering her eyes to her hands again. "I don't want him to come back," she repeated in a whisper. "He'll be angry that Lucius is gone, and that I let the Aurors take some of his things away. And h-he might make me help him, and Draco too, when he's older. I like things the way they are, when I don't have to be frightened."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him relax slightly. Good. Again, she'd happened upon the right tack. "Did you tell Bellatrix this?" he asked quietly, his voice calm but no longer coldly neutral.

"No... she'd be angry. She'd make me help anyway." Narcissa shook her head. "I lied to her... I told her that the things you took away were still hidden there, that the Aurors hadn't found them. I said that he'd be very angry if I went away and left them unguarded, and she thought so too. But she told me what they were going to do."

"Which is?" he asked, leaning forward a little.

"She and some of the others... I don't know who, exactly... think that the Aurors are hiding something," she said softly. "That they know something, a way to bring him back. So tomorrow night, they're going to go after two of them - a married couple, their name is Longbottom - to try to make them talk. The usual way." She bit her lip, looking up and meeting his eyes again. "I don't care about them, not really," she admitted. "I don't like Aurors, anyway. But... they have a baby. A little boy, about Draco's age. Bella says they'll hurt him, to make his parents talk." Her lip trembled. "I don't want them to... he's just a baby, he hasn't done anything..." She'd been a little surprised herself, to realize how distressing the idea was. She knew that the Death Eaters had hurt and killed children before, and it hadn't bothered her then. But this... she kept picturing Draco, crying, being hurt, and she couldn't stand it. She couldn't let them hurt another little boy, just like her son.

Severus was looking a little surprised. "Narcissa - I've never heard you object to any of the Death Eaters' activities before," he said slowly. "And there have been children involved before now."

"This is different," she whispered, biting her lip. "It just is. How can I ever look my baby in the face again, knowing that I didn't try to stop a little boy just like him from being killed?"

He reached out, a calloused finger tipping her chin up so he could see her face. "You found a depth to which you are not willing to sink," he said softly. "Something that just goes too far."

She nodded, a tear trickling down her cheek. She was crying so much, lately. "Bella would say it's because I'm weak," she said softly. "Maybe I am. I don't care. I just... I can't do that, Severus. Plenty of other things, but not that. Not a baby."

He nodded slowly, and for a moment his face twisted in a bitter, unhappy expression. "I understand," he said quietly. "I am... familiar with the feeling." The anguished expression vanished as if it had never been there, and he gave her a thoughtful look. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell Dumbledore. Or let me tell him, and make him believe me," she whispered. "He'll stop them. He won't let them do it."

"They'll be caught," he pointed out. "Bellatrix will almost certainly end up in Azkaban. Your own sister, Narcissa."

"I know." She thought of Draco, and set her jaw determinedly. "She's bringing it on herself. I won't stand by and let this happen, not even for her. She can't push me around anymore."

He laughed suddenly, quietly, although there wasn't much humour in it. "The worm turns, does it? You're tired of being ordered about?" He nodded. "Forgive me, Narcissa," he said gently. "But... I'll need to make sure you're telling me the truth."

She nodded. She didn't like this much, but she was used to it. He cupped her face lightly between his hands, turning it up to his, and she was a little startled at how gently he reached into her mind; her vision barely hazed, and he didn't pry. As soon as he'd confirmed that she was being truthful, he withdrew. "I'm sorry. But I had to be sure." And then he actually blushed a little, letting her go a little more quickly than necessary. "You were right about me," he added, looking away. "I... couldn't go on. It had gone too far."

"I understand." She smiled a little tentatively. "And... thank you. You'll help me stop them, won't you?"

"No," he said firmly. "I'll tell Dumbledore, he will stop them, and you'll go home to your son and stay safe, for his sake."

"Well, that's what I meant, really," she admitted, a little embarrassed. She looked up at him, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. Impulsively, she leaned over to rest a hand on his arm, and felt him shift uncomfortably. Good heavens. She hadn't expected this at all.

Men had been attracted to Narcissa before, of course. But she'd never been in a position to do anything but try to get rid of them. She and Lucius had gotten involved when she was still in her teens, and before that, Bella had been a rather zealous guardian of her virtue. Now... she was free. She could do anything she liked, and nobody could tell her not to. And he'd been so kind to her...

The sun was rising when Narcissa slipped out of the house into the isolated, overgrown back garden. Upstairs, Severus was sleeping soundly, his face vulnerable in sleep as it never was when he was awake. It had all gone very well... he'd been surprised, very, but he hadn't turned her down as she'd been half-afraid he would. Quite the contrary, and that thought brought a smile to her lips. It had gone very well.

And that probably would have been that, she thought, glancing up at the small window, if he hadn't then shocked the life out of her by actually holding her to him as he dozed off, smoothing her hair with a gentle hand. Sex Narcissa could more or less take in stride - she had done it before, after all. Tenderness, however fleeting, was something utterly outside her experience.

She looked up at the window again, not knowing how wistful her expression was as she Apparated away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Molly Weasley was having a very bad week.

Having four children under the age of four would be a trial for anyone. Having two of them be Fred and George was, she thought, a completely unjust blow of Fate. She loved them, of course, although sometimes she had to remind herself of that rather often.

Like today, for example, when they had fed their almost two-year-old brother three Puffapod seeds before she'd caught them. Ron would put anything shiny in his mouth, poor little fellow, and heaven only knew what they'd do in there. She'd had to rush him straight to St Mungo's, after calling Arthur home to take care of the other children.

After Ron had been de-seeded and given a lollipop, she decided to stop in at the small, charming house that currently served as the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. The Order still had work to do, tidying up the last of Voldemort's followers, although things were slowing down now. She'd rather miss it... With seven children, she didn't often get to spend time with other adults.

Alastor Moody was there, when she arrived, along with Arabella Figg, having a cup of tea and fussing over an adorable little blond boy about Ron's age. Moody raised an eyebrow at her, giving the little boy another biscuit. "We weren't expecting you, Molly... anything wrong?"

"The twins fed Ron Puffapod seeds," Molly said a little grumpily. "They've hit on the idea of finding out if things are good to eat by giving them to Ron first, the little wretches."

"Oh, dear..." Arabella shook her head, smiling at Ron, who still looked a bit woebegone, despite the bright pink lollipop he was sucking. "But he got a sweetie out of it, didn't you, little man?" Ron nodded, looking a little more cheerful. "And you, Molly, sit down and have a cup of tea and a biscuit."

"I can't think of anything I want more, just now," Molly admitted, sitting down and letting Ron wiggle down off her lap to investigate the stranger. "And who's this little fellow?"

"This is Draco Malfoy," Moody said, smiling just a little as the two toddlers inspected each other thoughtfully. "You remember... Father was a Death Eater. Took poison when he thought we'd catch up to him. Mother's a bit of a rabbit, but not bad at heart... tipped us off about the attack on the Longbottoms."

"My goodness... what is he doing here?" Molly asked curiously, giving the little boy a smile. He gazed at her solemnly for a moment, then smiled back.

"His mother's meeting with Dumbledore. She's afraid to do it anywhere less secure... if her husband's former allies ever found out, she and the boy wouldn't stand a chance." Moody shrugged. "Don't blame her for being cautious."

"Neither do I, poor thing," Molly agreed, instantly sympathetic. The poor girl had been through enough already, being married to that dreadful man, who'd killed himself and left her to face the investigation all alone.

They were on their second round of tea when a tall, pale woman slipped silently into the room. The little boy ran to her at once, holding up his latest biscuit to her and babbling happily. "Hello, Draco," she said fondly, kneeling to pick him up. He gave her the rather sticky biscuit, and she solemnly nibbled it before handing it back. "Thank you, darling," she said fondly. "You have the rest."

Molly beamed. Clearly a devoted mother, despite her youth... of course, Molly had been rather younger herself when she'd become a mother for the first time. Dumbledore followed her into the room, and introduced them, and Arabella gave the girl - Narcissa - a cup of tea. She sat down, looking very shy and holding her son on her lap, apparently heedless of all the crumbs he was dropping on her.

Eventually, as it always did, conversation turned to the Dark Lord, his defeat, and the Potters. The loss was still too recent, and too shocking, for any of the Order to keep away from it too long. Narcissa nodded and murmured agreement, but largely stayed out of the conversation between the other four... at first.

"I still can't believe that it was Sirius Black, of all people," Arabella said sadly. She'd always liked Sirius - 'that young rascal Black' she'd called him. "How he could betray his dearest friends like that..."

Moody nodded. "Volatile. Unstable," was his opinion. "Mistake to make him Secret Keeper. Even if he hadn't been Voldemort's spy..."

Narcissa frowned a little, her pretty forehead creasing. "But it wasn't Sirius who did that," she said thoughtfully. "I'm sure it wasn't."

"Sirius may have been unstable but-" Arabella stopped and stared at Narcissa. So did the other three. "What do you mean, it wasn't Sirius?"

"Who was the spy. He's my cousin, you see. I'd have known if he was the spy." Narcissa sipped her tea, her pale grey eyes thoughtful. "Everyone would have been pleased with him, not refusing to mention his name. I thought the spy was someone else..."

Molly realized, with something of a shock, that the pale, almost ghostly girl sitting beside her had been, for a great part of the covert war, on entirely the other side. Across the table, Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes intent and his voice, when he spoke, very calm and casual. "Do you remember who it was, Narcissa?"

"I suppose you would want to know," Narcissa agreed placidly, as if the idea hadn't occurred to her until now. "He died, I believe. His name was... hm... it started with a P, I think. Pettifogger? Pettigrew? Something like that?"

There was a long, agonized moment of silence. "Peter Pettigrew?" Dumbledore whispered, his eyes wide.

"Oh, yes. That was it." She smiled a pretty, rather vacant smile. "Lucius told me, once. Is it important? Since he's dead, you know."

Moody looked ready to explode, but Dumbledore silenced him with a raised hand. "It is rather important, yes," he said calmly. "Thank you for telling us, Narcissa. Perhaps it's time that you and Draco went home? He looks ready for a nap, I think."

Narcissa looked down at the sleepy toddler in her arms and smiled fondly. "You're quite right, Professor Dumbledore, it's time for his nap. It's time for your nap, isn't it, little man?" She cooed affectionately to the child as she rose. "Thank you for the tea," she added, rather absently, and headed for the other room, presumably planning to use the fire to go home.

There was another long moment of silence. "IS IT IMPORTANT, she says!" Moody spluttered, his face purple. "Sirius Black in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, for MONTHS now, and... is it important, she asks us?" He took a deep breath, then a gulp of tea. "I knew the girl wasn't bright, but THIS..."

"Narcissa has never been taught to consider others, and I doubt she's ever given Sirius much thought, since he was cast off by the family," Dumbledore said rather dryly. "She is entirely taken up with her son, and cares little for anything else. Try to understand, Alastor... she's made progress, but we must not expect miracles." He shook his head. "Peter Pettigrew... I can scarcely believe it. But Narcissa certainly has no reason to lie, since she obviously has little interest in her cousin's whereabouts. Or his innocence or guilt."

Alastor nodded. "We'll have him out as soon as possible," he said grimly. "It may take a while, but I'll manage something."

"The poor man," Molly said unhappily, gathering Ron up and hugging him tightly. "What he must have gone through!" Ron, too, looked sleepy, she realized. "And I should head home myself... Poor Arthur must be ready to Stupefy the children by now to get some peace."

"Of course, Molly. And do let him know the news of Sirius's innocence." Dumbledore smiled at her, but his mind was clearly elsewhere. "An unnamed witness, do you think, Alastor? A Muggle, perhaps, only just discovered..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

He was definitely being strange tonight. Narcissa was entirely bewildered by it.

Her visits to Severus were a regular event now... he'd never visited her, but she'd often found herself counting the days until she could go to him again. They talked - he was actually interested in her thoughts and opinions, and rather to her surprise, Narcissa had found that she had quite a few. Sometimes they ate together. Always the evenings ended in the same way as the first, although they never talked about it. Sometime, she supposed, they'd have to, but she was in no hurry for things to change, in case they got worse.

But tonight he was being... odd. Distant. After nearly an hour of trying to make conversation, Narcissa scowled at him. "What is the matter with you?" she asked reproachfully. "If you want me to leave, I will, but you could just say so."

He gave her a startled look, and then frowned. "I don't want you to leave," he said, apparently rather unwillingly.

"But you're angry with me." She never would have dared be so blunt with Lucius, but Severus treated her as an equal, of sorts. "What have I done?"

He glanced away, looking just a little ashamed of himself. "You told Dumbledore and Moody that Pettigrew was the traitor, not Black," he muttered.

"Well, yes. He was." She blinked at him. "I thought it would make them trust me more. I wouldn't have said anything if I'd known you didn't want me to."

He got up, wandering over to the bookshelves. "It's not that I didn't want you to," he said stiffly. "But I wanted Black to be guilty. I wanted him to stay in Azkaban and suffer."

Narcissa nodded slowly. "He used to treat you badly at school, didn't he?" she said softly. "I'd forgotten. He was always something of a bully, even when we were small."

"I'm not surprised," Severus said grimly. "And yes, he did... treat me badly. And I wanted him to pay for it."

Narcissa shrugged. "I'm sure you'll think of something," she said brightly. "And I could help you. He's my cousin, but I'm not fond of him particularly."

He gave her a sharp, surprised look, and then he smiled for the first time that evening. "Thank you, Narcissa," he said gravely. "I would... appreciate that."

Glad that that was over, Narcissa returned the smile. "Then that's what we'll do," she said decidedly, going over to him and tugging him down for a lingering kiss. She, for one, was more than ready to move the evening along to its always pleasant and usually prolonged conclusion.

He kissed her back, holding her tightly the way he always did... and then, slowly, he drew back, looking down at her with an inscrutable expression. "Why do you do this?" he whispered, drawing back, and holding her by the shoulders when she would have slipped into his arms again.

"Because I want to," she said softly, lifting a hand to touch his thin cheek gently. "Don't you?"

He swallowed hard. "Yes. And you know it," he said grimly. "Why me, Narcissa? You're beautiful enough to have any man you want, and god knows you could do better than me." He looked around the small, shabby room with a bitter little laugh. "I've nothing to offer you. The first time you were grateful to me, and I accepted that. The second time I put down to curiosity or lingering gratitude or wanting to know if you could, and I didn't care which." His hands tightened on her shoulders, his expression an odd mix of confusion and pain. "But you kept coming back. Why me, Narcissa? Why do you keep coming back to me? To this?"

She swallowed hard, touching his cheek again. She was going to have to be honest - really honest, this time, not just telling the truth when and how it suited her. "Because you hold me," she said in a small voice.

He blinked at her. "Because I... what?"

She swallowed hard. She wanted to cry, but she wasn't going to. She didn't want to get her way by crying, not this time, not with him. "Because you hold me," she repeated. "When you kiss me, and... and afterwards. Nobody's ever... Lucius never did, not even in the beginning, he wasn't affectionate with anyone. And n-neither were my parents, or Bella, or... anyone. You hold me as if you love me, and I don't care if you don't, really; as long as I can pretend that you do while I'm with you, that's enough." That last part was a lie, she realized even as she said it. It wasn't enough, and she did care. But she would settle for the illusion of love, if it was all she could have.

He stared at her, stunned... and then he pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him. "I didn't know," he whispered into her hair, as she started to cry in earnest. "I never thought... I do care, Narcissa, I have for a long time, but I didn't think you wanted me to... I couldn't imagine why you'd want me..."

"I do," she sobbed, burying her face in his robes. "You and nobody else." She hadn't realized how much it mattered to her until he'd pulled her to him and it had suddenly all been all right.

Severus opened his eyes. Something was... strange. Not right.

He turned his head, and realized with an almost painful happiness that the not-rightness was because for the very first time, Narcissa was still beside him. She'd always been gone when he woke up, before. Now she wasn't... she was curled up beside him, her arm resting across his chest, her face innocent and peaceful in sleep.

He had to tell her.

He didn't want to... had never intended to. But he loved her, and she, he was almost certain, loved him as well. She trusted him. And he could already feel the guilt starting to gnaw at him.

He hadn't felt the slightest bit guilty about poisoning Malfoy at the time. He'd been a monster, and a cowardly one at that, one who could afford to make sure that he would never see justice for those he'd murdered. And it had been the quickest way to get his hands on the two incredibly powerful artifacts... Horcruces, as they had turned out to be... that Voldemort had left in Malfoy's keeping. He'd known that Narcissa would give them up at once, rather than be caught with them, and once he'd learned they were there, he hadn't dared leave them in Malfoy's hands. The Fates only knew what he'd have done with such malevolent power.

He'd never wanted to hurt her. He knew she wasn't especially attached to Malfoy, and that as long as she and her baby were safe and peaceful, she'd be perfectly happy. He hadn't had any designs on her then, he'd just felt rather sorry for her.

Until now, he'd had nothing to feel guilty about. But now... now he was in love with the man's wife. Now he was directly, personally benefiting from Malfoy's death. It made things different.

Narcissa's eyes opened, and she smiled drowsily as she saw him looking at her. "Is it morning?" she murmured, nestling against his side. "I don't want to go yet..."

"It's only morning in the technical sense... it's just after two." He sat up, drawing reluctantly away from her. "Narcissa... I have to tell you something, before we take this any further."

She frowned, sitting up herself, her fair hair falling around her like silvery silk. "Severus, you don't have to," she said softly, touching his arm.

"I do." He looked down at her hand, covering it gently with his own. "When I came to visit, after Lucius died, I told you that I'd come to help you. That was true, but it wasn't all the truth. Two of the artifacts he had... the book, and the golden cup... were Horcruces belonging to the Dark Lord. Two portions of his soul, that he could use to rise again. I wasn't sure that that's what they were, but I knew they were incredibly powerful, and very valuable to He Who Must Not Be Named. A chance word from Lucius told me that he had them - and that he planned to use them or their power, as soon as a good opportunity presented itself. I'd already reached my limit, Narcissa, realized that I couldn't live with myself if things went further. I had to get them away from him." He took a deep breath. Now. He had to stop being a coward and tell her...

"Ohhh," Narcissa said, nodding. "So that's why you came to the house that night. I wondered."

He stared at her. Would she ever stop coming out with these unbelievably startling statements? 'I don't want to be evil anymore', 'I want you to love me', 'I know you killed my husband'... "You knew!"

She nodded. "I saw you coming out of his study," she explained. "Dobby told me that someone was in there - he was under orders always to do so, unless Lucius had told him not to. So I sneaked down to watch and see if I could see who it was, coming out. And I saw you just before you put on your invisibility cloak." She smiled a little. "I didn't say anything, when the Aurors came, and I told Dobby to say that he didn't know if anyone had been there."

He was gaping at her like a schoolboy, he realized, and he shut his mouth with a snap. "You knew? And... you didn't tell anyone? You turned to me when I came by the next day? You went to BED with me?"

"I don't know if you poisoned him, or if you told him things were very bad, so he'd poison himself," she said calmly. "And I don't want to know. For Draco - I don't want to have to lie to him, if he asks if his father really killed himself." She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them. "I knew Lucius would die sooner or later, once he'd sworn himself to He Who Must Not Be Named. After that, I was just waiting for it to happen, and hoping it wouldn't mean me getting hurt as well." She smiled, resting her head against his shoulder as they sat side by side. "You were careful not to leave anything that might point to me. That was sweet."

... sweet. He'd killed her husband, and she thought it was sweet. "I'm... surprised," he said, rather inadequately. "I knew the two of you weren't exactly devoted to each other, but..."

"I respected Lucius. I was loyal to him while he was alive. I gave him a son, and would have had more children if we'd had time. I made an alliance, uniting our families, and I did everything I could to make it a strong one." She shrugged. "But he's dead now. He gave me little thought when he was alive, why should I give him more now that he's dead?"

He'd known she was more intelligent than she ever admitted, that she could manipulate the truth far more skillfully than most people could lie. He'd known there were hidden complexities under that malleable, guileless surface. Just how deep and complicated they were, he hadn't realized. He was torn between shocked, impressed and rather aroused. "I had no idea you could be so... practical," he said, settling for admiring.

She smiled at him. "I wouldn't be nearly so practical if you were murdered. I'd be plotting all sorts of wicked and agonizing revenge," she told him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But it's different with you. I chose you for myself, nobody chose you for me."

And for someone who'd been pushed around all her life, that would make all the difference, he realized. She had chosen him, of her own will, without let or hinderance, and would value him far higher than the husband chosen for her by her family. "I'm very glad you chose me," he said softly, wrapping an arm around her and drawing her to him. "And you're not... angry, or anything?"

"Not really. I was always sure you must have had a reason. And getting rid of a Horcrux or two is a VERY good reason." She shuddered. "I still don't want the Dark Lord to come back." She smiled up at him, and kissed him lingeringly. "But let's not think about that. I love you, and you seem to love me too, so I think we should discuss that some more."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"I'm sorry, Neville, but I don't think we're going to find him right now. I expect he'll turn up when we get there and everyone gets their luggage out of the way and things," Hermione said encouragingly. "What compartment are you in? Show me, and I'll come and let you know if I see him."

Neville nodded, smiling gratefully at her. "Trevor runs away a lot," he confided. "He's kind of adventurous, for a toad." He led the way into the next carriage, and opened the door. "This is mine... this is Hermione Granger, guys. She helped me look for Trevor."

There were three other boys in the compartment, all almost certainly first-years like herself. Hermione looked them over rather critically, and was looked over in return.

On her left, a tall, gangly boy with scruffy red hair and wide blue eyes looked at her thoughtfully. "Hello," he ventured, as if trying to communicate with an alien species. Hermione snorted inwardly. Clearly far too immature to deal with a Girl.

Opposite him, a shorter, skinnier boy with glasses and black hair that stuck up every which way smiled at her. "I'm Harry," he said, nodding politely. "That's Ron. We're just starting first year."

"So am I," Hermione said, determined to show that she was NOT ignorant and nobody was going to get away with thinking she was, just because she was Muggleborn. "And I must say, I think it's going to be fascinating. And challenging, of course. I've already memorized all of the basic tests, I do hope it's enough."

"I... think that'll be enough," Harry said, raising his eyebrows. The movement drew her attention to the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, and she blinked. This was Harry Potter? A scruffy little boy with glasses and red trainers? "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"We've all known each other since forever," Neville said brightly, squeezing past and flopping down on the seat beside Ron. "Since we were toddlers, I mean. Our parents all know each other, so we sort of had to get to be friends."

"One can only share so many Christmases, birthday parties, and so on before becoming friends in self-defense," the fourth boy agreed. He was blond, and had an air of casual cool that the other three decidedly lacked. "Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you, Miss Granger. You've met Neville Longbottom, and these are, more properly, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Please forgive them, they were never taught to make proper introductions."

Ron scowled, and Harry kicked Draco in an amiable sort of way. "Draco shows off all the time. You get used to it," Harry said cheerfully.

"Can I help it if my natural genius shines through? I try to be ordinary and plebian, I truly do." Draco grinned, and kicked back. That was just typical of boys, they seemed to think kicking and punching were delightfully friendly activities.

"Sure you do." Harry smiled at Hermione. He was, she decided, the nice one. Well, him and Neville, who was really apallingly dim, but quite sweet. "Thanks for helping Neville, by the way. Trevor's always wandering off, but he always turns up again."

Hermione nodded. "I wish I could have been more help," she said, feeling a little wistful. It was horrible, not knowing anyone. She envied the boys, being lucky enough to go off to Hogwarts with friends already prepared. "Oh, and we ought to start putting our robes on, the witch with the cart says. We'll be there soon."

They nodded, and she slipped away with a little sigh. She'd never been very good at making friends. She hoped she'd do better, this year...


End file.
